


Toast of the Town

by Kabella



Series: First Days [2]
Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Bar, Daydreams, Dreams, London, M/M, Part 2, car doors, club, too young, what is he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kabella/pseuds/Kabella
Summary: Tommy cannot wait to see London again. He's a bundle of nerves. Nikki is ready to make his exit. Is this meeting meant to to be?
Relationships: Tommy Lee/Nikki Sixx
Series: First Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819792
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Toast of the Town

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up story to Starry Eyes. (Posted about a month ago or so.)

_Late Sept. 1980_

Five days have passed since Tommy saw London play for the first time. 5 days that he’s been daydreaming about everything from befriending the mysterious bassist of London to joining a new band with him. His brain has not shut down. Nearly every minute of his waking day is consumed with these thoughts. Did that bass player actually insinuate that they could play together? Or at least talk about it? What did he mean by “come and find me sometime, after Tommy mentioned that he plays drums…”? Is he interested in hearing Tommy play them? Every scenario has crossed his mind, and finally the day is here; London’s next show date, at a 21 and over club. 

God he’s nervous, as the 17 year old stands outside of the club pacing. What if he can’t get in? That bassist, Nikki, told him to say that he’s with him. What if he’s forgotten? Tommy smelled the alcohol hanging heavy off the bass player’s breath. What if he was too drunk to remember? Not only will he be embarrassed, it will be a huge let down. Maybe he can wait around outside until it’s over. Maybe he can catch the bassist as they pack up. Maybe then he’ll remember. Tommy decides to get in line for the door. He’s nervous as fuck. Should he try to get in with just his height and looks, or should he tell them straight away that he knows Nikki Sixx? 

Tommy makes it up to the bouncer. “ID,” the bouncer requests.

“I know the bass player of London. He said to ask for him.”

“Listen kid, you think I’m going to leave my post to go find that drunk bastard to ask about your ass. Step aside,” the bouncer replies, motioning for the next person to come forward.

Tommy walks away, feeling humiliated and let down. Fuck. Now what? He walks away from the front, not wanting to be seen anymore, towards the back side of the club and finds a curb to sit on. He lights up, wondering if he should just sit out here until the show is over. It’s going to be a long wait, and a missed chance to hear their music again. Maybe he should try to find out when and where they’re playing next, and just go to that show. This was his worst case scenario. It did cross his mind that this could happen. He feels his fantasies of carousing with the band, and with Nikki, having that chance of a fast track to the spotlight, slipping away, as he lights up his second cigarette. 

Tommy’s now on his third smoke, pacing, feeling like he should admit defeat and head home, but he’s not able to make his feet go. His deep thoughts are disrupted by the sound of the most obnoxious car with a bad muffler screeching around the alleyway towards the back of the club. The car pulls up into the last open spot, if it’s even a spot. Tommy can’t quite believe his luck when he sees that it’s the bass player. The dude looks pissed, and seems to be hurried and maybe even a little flustered, as he gets out of his car, a half burnt cigarette hanging from his mouth, as he’s trying to gather up stuff, digging in the back seat through the driver’s door of the car. 

Tommy wonders if he should lend a hand. The guy looks angry. He probably won’t even remember the drummer. He doesn’t want to feel stupid or in the way. He leans against the building in the shadows, watching as Nikki finally emerges from his car, standing up, holding his bass guitar and some papers and junk. He slams his car door. 

“Fuck!’ Tommy hears the bassist swear, as the car door swings back open. Nikki slams it again, and once more, the latch won’t catch and it flies open again. “Fucking piece of shit car!” Nikki yells, cigarettes still between his lips, as he slams the door again, this time with his boot. It bounces back open again. Nikki looks like he’s about ready to rip the damn door off of the car. 

“Hey! Need a hand?!” Tommy finally asks, standing up, walking towards the bassist.

“Piece of shit. I thread the seatbelt through the door handle when I’m driving so it doesn’t fly open. I’m parked on the wrong side of the tilt for it to stay shut now.”

“I can tether it for you from the passenger side. I see you got your hands full,” Tommy offers. 

Nikki spits the cigarette from his lips, blowing out one last puff of smoke. “You can’t open the other door. You have to go through that window. The driver window doesn’t roll down. And aren’t you’re that drummer kid from the other night? Trouble, right?”

“Yeah, Troubled Tommy,” he smiles with a shrug, as he sits on the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut to wrap the seatbelt around; knowing he’s gotta climb out the opposite window when he’s done.

“What’s a matter? Did you get turned away at the door?”

“Uh, something like that.”

“Heh. Come on in with me this way,” Nikki says, walking over to the stage door, and kicking hard it multiple times with his boot.

Someone from inside pushes open the door. Tommy can hear yelling as he’s threading the seatbelt through the door hand to keep it shut. He sees Nikki stepping in. The stage door slams shut behind him. The car door seems secure, so Tommy clumsily slips out through the car window, his long limbs awkwardly trying to propel himself out. He finally gets to his feet, and he can already see from where he’s standing that there’s no outer door handle to get inside the club. It’s a security door that can only be opened from inside. Tommy sighs. “Fuck.”

He paces around for about 20 seconds, when he hears the door open. “Sorry man, I had to unload my stuff. Come on,” the bass player says, motioning with his arm for Tommy to come in.

Relieved, he steps in, suddenly feeling nervous. He pans the area, and sees the other members of London, getting things ready for their set. He can hear another band playing out in the club area.

“Hey Nikki! What’s this? There’s no pets allowed in here,” the guitarist says, motioning towards Tommy.

“He’s a guest,” Nikki replies.

“Does he sing?”

“No, just a guest.”

“Fuck man. This cat that we have now, ain’t gonna cut it,” the guitarist huffs, going back to his task at hand.

“I know, dude. We gotta get through tonight,” Nikki says.

Nikki stands in front of Tommy, “Look you’re in here now, man. You do what you want. You can watch from the club area. Or you can stay back here. Just stay out of the way. I gotta do some things. Our singer quit. We have this fill-in for tonight. I gotta go over some stuff with him.”

“Sorry, dude,” Tommy says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nikki says, drawing closer to Tommy. “They don’t know it yet, but I’m done,” he whispers, with a wink and a grin. “Maybe tonight. Maybe one more show or two. I could use the money….. Got a little alcohol habit. Oh and that annoying thing called rent,” Nikki says, still grinning, pulling a ten spot from his wallet. “Here, get yourself a drink. Bring me back a beer and shot.”

Tommy takes the money with a wide-eyed look. “But--”

“You’re in, man. They’re not going to card you now.”

Tommy nods and makes his way out into the club. He feels a little nervous, being so young, even though he knows that he looks a bit older since he’s so tall. He steps up to the bar. He’s not even sure how to order. He decides to just stand there and wait, drumming his nervous fingers on the bar top. Being in his own band that plays in clubs, Tommy’s no stranger to drinking. He’s often offered drinks by fans and the older siblings from other band members, but he’s never actually ordered from the bar himself.

“What can I get you?” a bartender finally asks.

“Two beers.”

“Budweiser, Miller, Pabst--”

“Uh, Budweiser,” Tommy swallows hard.

“Come on, man. Bottle or tap?” the bartender huffs.

“Bottle? Oh and a shot. Scotch?” The bartender eyeballs him strangely, as he turns away. Tommy feels like a dumb shit. He doesn’t know what people order. He doesn’t know if the bass player likes scotch. It just came to mind because his dad always seems to have a scotch in hand... but in a glass tumbler. Do people even take shots of scotch? Why didn’t he ask what Nikki wanted.

The bartender returns with the drinks. Tommy lays the $10 on the bar, hoping it’s enough. Within seconds change is laid out, and the bartender is on to the next person. He grabs the money and the drinks and carries them awkwardly to the backstage. Upon return, he doesn’t see Nikki, but he can hear yelling around the corner, down the hallway. He sees Nikki’s bass case, and sits in a folding chair near it, placing his drinks on the floor nearby.

Within five minutes or so, Nikki returns, grumbling. “This show is gonna bite,” he mumbles under his breath, spotting the shot glass on the floor. He picks it up, and throws it back in about two seconds flat.

Tommy waits for a reaction, wondering whether he got the right drink. Nikki doesn’t say anything, he just tosses the empty shot glass towards a dark corner. It doesn’t break, but it might be awhile before it’s found. Nikki then stoops down and picks up the beer, and guzzles some before he finally speaks again.

“So you said you play drums?” Nikki asks.

“Yeah. I’m in a band. We play some of the clubs in the area.”

“What’s the band?”

“Suite 19. Uh, we kind of have a following. We do some covers, but have some originals too.”

“Get the fuck out of here! Are you Tommy Bass?”

“Yeah….. How do you know?” Tommy asks, crinkling his brow.

A sly grin spreads across the bass player’s face. 

“Nikki! What the fuck are you doing!? Where’s the lyrics to that song?! That new cocksucker needs them!” the guitarist screeches.

Nikki reaches down and grabs his notebook, still grinning. “Later,” he says, then walks away with the guitar player, beer in hand. 

Tommy is amped up now. How does Nikki Sixx from London know his name? Did he see them play?

\---------------------------

Tommy didn’t really have another opportunity to talk to the bass player again before their show. He decided to listen to them from within the club area. They definitely weren’t as good with this singer. The band explained that their singer, Nigel, had an emergency to tend to, and so there’s a fill-in for tonight. Tommy knows that’s bullshit. The singer quit, according to Nikki. This vocalist was mumbling through some of the lyrics, and his voice just didn’t have the same punch as Nigel’s voice. Nonetheless, the songs are tight. They’re good songs. And Nikki, now that he’s taking him in from afar, is looking fine tonight from top to bottom. God, the way he looks holding that bass guitar….. Tommy licks his lips.

The show is over. The jukebox system kicks in, keeping the music roaring through the night. Tommy sticks around as the band breaks down, staying out of the way. He caught Nikki’s eye, to let him know that he’s still there. The bassist acknowledged him with a toss of his head and a smile. The stage is clearing. It seems that they’ll be finished soon. As Tommy continues to wait anxiously, he goes back to the bar. This time he orders, straightaway, 2 bottles of Budweiser. 

London is done breaking down. Two members leave, two members go to the bar, and Nikki makes his way towards Tommy, who’s made a point of keeping himself visible, so the bass player wouldn’t forget that he’s there.

“Um, here. I got you another beer. Uh, with my money. Here’s you change from before,” Tommy nervously says, handing the beer over, as he searches around in his pocket for the change.

“Thanks, and keep the change. It’s on me,” Nikki replies, placing a cigarette to his lips.

Tommy follows suit, also pulling a cigarette out. Nikki holds his light out for him. That small gesture, put a knot in Tommy’s belly. 

“So, how do you know my name? I guess you’ve seen us play?”

“Nope. Never saw you play,” Nikki says, blowing smoking out, then tipping the bottle back. “Been asking around _‘Who’s the best drummer on the Strip.’_ Heard your name come up three times.

Tommy can’t help but to smile wide. “Really?” he says, wide-eyed.

“That’s what people tell me. I’m looking to put together something new. Something better. I got it all planned out, from the songs to the look. It’s all in my notebook,” he says, motioning over towards where his belongings are. “Wanna go somewhere quieter to talk?” Nikki says, staring intently, suddenly aware that this kid may not even be interested in anything he just said.

“Hell yeah!” Tommy blurts out, slamming the rest of his beer back.

The bassist smiles. “Let’s go.”

Nikki grabs his belongings, and they go out the back door. Tommy is suddenly reminded of bassist's vehicle predicament. 

“Hey, wanna lock that shit up in my van? It’s just down a few blocks. It should be safe there,” Tommy offers.

  
“You gotta problem with my car?”

“No, but I think you do. You were abusing it and swearing at it, before. Come on, you’ll either need to lug your instrument around or risk getting it stolen,” Tommy says, boldly.

“I like your ingenuity, kid,” Nikki says, following the drummer towards his van.

Nikki dumps his bass and a few other things inside Tommy’s van. He takes his notebook with him, and then they head over to a corner diner on the next block.

They’re seated and place their orders.

“Fuck. What are the chances that Troubled Tommy turns out to be Tommy Bass,” Nikki marvels.

“I’m just floored that I’m sitting here with Nikki Sixx. I mean, I have your band’s poster on my wall. Right up there with Van Halen and KISS.”

“Heh….. Well, I think the band is going to need to print up new posters soon. Nigel is gone. I’m out next,” Nikki says, clicking his tongue.

“I guess I don’t understand. You guys kind of made it. Like everyone knows who you are.”

“Everyone? Tommy, I got my sights set higher. London ain’t going no further. I want more. I’m not settling to play in a Sunset Strip band forever. All those motherfuckers out there settle. Once they make it onto the club circuit, they think their fucking kings and queens of the scene. I’m not settling for a title on the Strip. I wanna be known in Alaska and Hawaii, even New Jersey. Fuck, I wanna be known around the world. It’s why I need the best drummer, the best guitarists, and the best singer. Certainly not that cackling crow who was singing for us tonight. I got the songs, man. I got the ideas to blow all of these other shitty bands out of the water, including London.”

“That’s like stabbing your own mother in the back, isn’t it?”

Nikki shrugs. “I don’t like my mother very much,” he says with a sinister smile.

“Oh, uh…. Well…. Ok, then,” Tommy stutters, slightly unnerved by Nikki’s callous remark.

Nikki senses the drummer’s uncomfortable reaction. “Relax kid. I don’t even see my mom. She’s up in Seattle. I pick up the phone every now and then to check in with her. It’s no big deal. She lives there. I like it here, away from her.”

  
  


“You got your own place?”

“Yeah. It’s a shithole, but a step up from a few other places that I’ve lived. You? Hey, how old are you anyway?”

“Uh, well…. You see… um….. Well, I’m going to 18 next week,” Tommy chokes out.

“Fuck man! You’re kidding me,” Nikki laughs. “You must be some virtuoso or prodigy then. Are you? Had 3 different people swear that the best drummer on the Strip is you, the 17 year old.”

“Hey man, I’m good. I know my craft. Been playing since I was like 3. I play other instruments too. Even wrote one of our originals that my band plays.”

“Not knocking you. Just saying, you must be a hell of a drummer to get that much recognition at 17.”

“I’m almost 18. You may as well just consider me 18,” Tommy reasons, afraid he may have just shot himself in the foot. Why didn’t he just say he was 18, thinking that would make all the difference.

“OK, Tommy Bass,” Nikki snickers. “Hey, so you wanna see my ideas?” thebass play says, holding up his notebook.

Tommy breathes a sigh of relief. He’s still made the cut so far. “Yeah, I think we could bring some good ideas to life, together,” Tommy says, feeling terrified as he said the word “together.” He’s still slightly star struck, in disbelief that he’s talking shop with a guy that’s on a poster on his wall.

Nikki smiles wide, opening the notebook up. He takes a deep breath, purses his lips, and then closes the notebook again. “Before I show this, I just wanna know where your head is at. What’s your dreams and goals, coz if you think London is the top of the game, we’re not gonna be right for each other. And where are you with Suite 19?”

“Look man, I know I said that before about London, and it’s really just because you’re the next level for me and my band. I mean, we’re starting to make a name for ourselves, so we look to the next level, and then the next. There will always be a next level, and I intend to just keep going for it. And lemme tell you something. I learned all this shit with music because I want to be someone. I went against my dad’s wishes. I dropped out of school because I know what I want to do. My parents think I’m stupid and foolish, but I never ever lost an ounce of sleep over it. I know I’m going to be something in this business. As for my band…. Well we’re kind of at an impasse right now. I wanna write music and do originals. Unfortunately, as of recently, a few of my bandmates wanna focus on covers for now and develop some New Wave shit. I’m not doing that. They want to conform, and I wanna rock.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” Nikki smiles, opening his notebook back up. “Seems like maybe we met just at the right time.”

The two musicians share thoughts over a late night meal at the diner. They’re there for over an hour, firing off concepts and brainstorming a shit ton of ideas and plans.

“It’s getting late,” Tommy says. “I actually gotta show tomorrow if you wanna come see us and watch me play.”

“Just so happens I’m free,” Nikki replies, popping his eyebrows up with a playful smirk.

“The guys are gonna shit when they see you,” Tommy says, marvelling about this in his head. He’ll definitely be flaunting his new friend in front of his bandmates. Fuck them and their New Wave. They’re gonna be sorry. The only wave Tommy wants to do is goodbye. 

They each leave about $5 on the table and leave the diner. They walk back to the van, while Tommy tells Nikki about tomorrow night's show.

He unlocks it. “Hey, let me give you a ride back to your car. It’s kinda late, you know.”

“I guess, thanks,” Nikki says, jumping into the passenger seat. He turns around and looks in the back of the van. “You got a sweet little set-up in here. How’s your girlfriend like it?” Nikki laughs.

“Uh, well. You know, I’ve been back there, but I’m not with anyone right now. No girlfriend.”

“A guy like you? Or are you into dudes. Weren’t you with one the night we met?”

“Me? Naw… uh, Rob, um, he’s a friend. He’s in a band too. Uh, there’s nothing,” Tommy spits out awkwardly, getting flush in the face, hoping Nikki doesn’t notice.

“I’m just messing with you, man. Think I give a shit? Fuck, anything goes here on the Strip,” Nikki says, lighting up. “You know how many guys try to pick me up on a weekly basis? I mean you cross dress a little. Go glam, and nobody know what the fuck you are. They all try. Girls, guys. Sometimes I can’t even tell ‘em apart myself. I like who I am. Keep ‘em guessing….heh, heh,” Nikki smirks, exhaling smoke, leaning back in the seat, boot on the dashboard, hanging his arm out the window.

Tommy thinks that Nikki is about the coolest motherfucker that he’s ever met, and he has zero clue what the hell Nikki is trying to insinuate, if anything. Is he gay. Is he straight? Is he bi? Does he even know, himself, or care? “Uh, I know what you mean [he doesn’t actually].... I rummage through my sister’s closet sometimes. It throws people off. Kinda fun fucking with people.”

“Glam?”

“Yeah. I do glam shit. Sometimes at my shows. I’ve just been drawn to it.”

“That’s cool as fuck,” Nikki says, a sly smirk put on his face, as Tommy pulls away from the curb. “I got so many ideas running through my head.” 

Nikki doesn’t really know what he wants. He’s been into girls, but once he started on the glam scene with London, men started hitting on him too. At first it was weird, then it became intriguing, then something he enjoyed, just to feed his ego. Nikki never took anyone up on their offer though. If it were something that he’d ever go for, he had to, one, have an immediate attraction to the person. And two, maybe know a little something about him. He wouldn’t want to be taken advantage of or used and abused at the hands of someone who is experienced and calloused. He thinks though, that maybe a lot of alcohol and drugs would have eventually led him down that path, but hasn’t gotten there, as of yet. 

Young Tommy has caught his eye, and he’s taken notice of the way the drummer keeps staring at him. It could just be nerves. The kid already admitted that he’s star struck. But Nikki saw him, out in the crowd, looking him up and down, while he was on stage tonight. Then again at the diner. Whatever it is. He likes it. He likes this kid drummer. He has the looks, the right attitude, the drive, and the talent, well at least from what he’s heard about him.

“Well, here you go,” Tommy says, pulling up behind Nikki’s car. “Want me to slip in and unlatch the door for you?”

“No, man. It’s my beast to deal with. I got it.,” Nikki replies.

“It’s no problem. Gather up you shit. I’ll be in and out of the car before you even get your stuff,” Tommy insists, as he’s already getting out of his van.

Nikki isn’t going to argue, as he sees Tommy already slipping through the passenger window head first. The bassist gathers his belongings from the back of the van. He closes the door and walks around to see the drummer’s feet sticking out of the window, and the driver’s door suddenly swinging open.

“Got it!” Tommy yells out. Nikki walks over to the driver side of his car to see Tommy sprawled out on his belly across both seats, feet still out the window, head and arms hanging out the other way. Nikki sets his bass case down, and slips the smaller things behind the driver’s seat.

“I think that you can use a hand,” Nikki says, laughing as he holds his hands out to help pull Tommy out.

“I think that I should just crawl out. My hands are right here on the pavement,” Tommy decides.

“This parking lot is nasty ass; littered with needles, chew, vomit and condoms, take my hand.”

“Here, let me turn around,” Tommy struggles to get himself to a face-up position, so now he can just try to pull his legs in though the window, and then try to get himself upright in the driver’s seat.

Nikki stands back watching this tall, lanky kid trying to untangle his limbs in this broken down compact car. He steps forward and takes hold of the drummer underneath his arms, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s chest, then takes steps back to pull him out, as he takes in the scent of the kid’s recently shampooed hair right under his nose.

Tommy’s feet finally hit pavement, and Nikki walks him forward a few steps till he can put his feet flat on the ground, grabbing the frame of the car, to steady himself to stand.

“Holy shit, man. Is this always a two-man job?” Tommy asks, trying to position himself in a way where Nikki won’t notice the bulge in his pants that unexpectedly rose up while the bass player’s arms were wrapped around him.

“Nah, I always try to just park flat or on the opposite tilt so I don’t have this problem. I was in too much a hurry to be selective with the parking spot tonight. Would’ve just left the damn door open if I had too. Or maybe roll one of those rocks over to wedge the frame. Anyway thanks. You didn’t need to pretzel yourself in there….. But thanks, and I’ll see you tomorrow night, man.”

“Yeah. Come find me before the show,” Tommy says, sticking his hand out to shake Nikki’s, not realizing that he’s looking the bass player up and down.

“Is it my looks or my clothes that you like tonight,” Nikki says, with a slanted grin, taking Tommy’s hand to shake.

‘What?” Tommy says, cheeks flush suddenly, pulling his hand back.

“You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Have I? I guess…. Uh, I didn’t realize. I--”

“Look man, let me know when you turn 18, then let me know if you still like what you see,” Nikki grins wide, popping his eyebrows up.

He and Tommy lock eyes for a few seconds, then Tommy turns away, unable to hide his smile. “In four days, bass player.”

“See you tomorrow,” Nikki says, getting into his car. “Maybe again in four days….. Come over. Bring yourself and your drum kit. I’ll have the beer and a birthday cake. We’ll jam….. And stuff,” Nikki says, shutting the door, taking a minute to latch it closed with the seatbelt.

Tommy gets back into his van. He can’t stop smiling. He’s not sure if it’s because of the potential with a new band with London’s bass player, Nikki Sixx. Or if it’s Nikki Sixx himself. Either way, he’s excited for the journey.

  
  
  



End file.
